


Decision Making for Idiots

by MtheT



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MtheT/pseuds/MtheT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established. Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decision Making for Idiots

He makes it out of the store and back to the truck rather sedately before it hits him.

 

It does hit him though.

 

Squarely between the eyes, and _HARD_. Like a well aimed two-by-four.

 

It makes him blink rapidly for long minutes, and lift a hand to his face to check for blood; or at the very least a lump. Janet always used to tell him that the reactions to the biggest shocks usually only manifested themselves after a delay.

 

It hasn’t actually been all that long though really.

 

Twenty minutes could have passed. Probably.

 

But shock is definitely the right word to describe what he’s feeling. In a wet and completely unremarkable parking lot; as he finishes ditching bags into the back of his truck.

 

He slams the lid closed, and being the good, moral individual that he is he walks the cart back to its little shelter.

 

It takes a rather loud horn and a Volvo about 4 inches from his left calf to snap him out of the stupor and make him remember that he isn’t here alone and his...* _heh_ *...is waiting for him.

 

Only she isn't waiting. She’s got a rather firm grasp on his elbow and is pulling him back towards the relative safety of his truck, all the while looking at him like he’s a complete idiot she's gravely concerned about.

 

He’ll have to ask her how she does that; he’ll add it to his list.

 

“Jay-walking?” She sounds a little amused, and there’s a little eyebrow-shrug, contraction thingy that distracts his brain momentarily. Only momentarily though, because he’s still mentally tripping over his delayed reaction to the rather monumental decision they’ve just made amidst the personal hygiene products.

 

Maybe she i _s_ weirder than him. “Carter?” He’s sure his voice isn’t normally this high; not when they’re fully clothed and in a public place anyway. But there _have_ been occasions...

 

“Yeah?”

 

Her eyes are doing a quick scan of their surroundings, no doubt following that near-miss Volvo, but it's just habit, and he knows it doesn’t mean that she isn’t still giving him her full attention.

 

“Did we just make a really huge and totally life-altering decision in aisle 6?”

 

Her eyes stop scanning. Quite abruptly in fact; and his voice was perfectly fine that time; but the shocked feeling has now morphed into a bouncy ball that’s jumping around his chest cavity while the breathtaking genius in front of him swallows sharply and flounders.

 

“Oh. _Wow_.”

 

And there it is.

 

His minds’ eye supplies the visual of the two-by-four smacking her upside the head.  It isn’t as gratifying as he maybe would’ve predicted though; largely because sharing the realization hasn’t made him feel any less nervous and lightheaded.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

They'd lost each other in the store.

 

It happens.

 

He'd found her looking at condoms with a distracted expression and fingering something he couldn’t identify in a shiny green packet. He'd been considering some juvenile comments and commentary when he'd caught sight of the word ‘ _edible_ ’ and gotten distracted by his fourteen year old inner self.

 

The pretty and inherently evil one had elbowed him sharply in the ribs and made a flippant remark. His tongue had moved on reflex to respond in a like manner and then she'd said something else that was equally as embarrassing and provocative...only it… _wasn’t_.

 

A very strange and _very_ short conversation had ensued.

 

Then they'd moved onto aisle 7 and picked up some fabric softener.

 

They’d made a decision though. Apparently.

 

A mutual, and worryingly (now he‘s dwelling), fundamental agreement.

 

In aisle 6.

 

 _Wow_ indeed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

He notes that she hasn’t said anything else, but he hasn’t either so he’s not really in a position to go pointing fingers; even if other parts of him are perfectly willing to point. It i ** _s_** a related topic after all.

 

The lack of actual words is mattering less with every nanosecond though; because he can see the tiny muscles of her face twitching, ever so slowly, until eventually... _there it is_.

 

She’s beaming at him.

 

Big and bright and broad across her perfect face and he manages to find some words. “Think they’ll be beautiful…” one tiny step and he’s close enough to trap her against the hunk of steel that’s providing their backdrop before he finishes, “…your kids”

 

The grin just stretches impossibly wider, and it has to be strenuous for her cheekbones but he doesn’t really care because she’s reciprocated the moving closer thing and there are fingers at the nape of his neck and some flawless dental work about 3 inches away from his mouth.

 

“ _Actually_ , I have this theory that they’re gonna be half yours.”

 

He decides to postpone the gloating and wallowing in smugness and foolish pride until a time when they aren’t in such close proximity.

 

The going with the flow improvisational behavior he opts for instead involves lots of touching, the exchange of saliva, breath, and probably a lot of other deeper stuff too. He’s more than happy with this spur of the moment decision. They both are.

 

The cold air he finds himself breathing when she breaks the airlock their mouths have made is a bit too much like a wake-up call though.

 

He absolutely does _no_ t pout, but when the intended mother of his children (yep, still * _wow_ *), has the nerve to laugh he retaliates with a couple of wayward fingers and a gloriously bendy thumb.

 

She doesn't yelp; and the narrowing of her eyes is actually pointless because this close he can see the darkening color and feel the way that she’s breathing.

 

She’s apparently aware of the same things, because she drops her head into his neck and when he does the thing with his fingers and thumb again she just sighs in resignation.

 

Straight down the back of his collar.

 

“We should go before we get arrested for public indecency again.”

 

It's his turn to sigh as he reluctantly pulls away his provoking hand; luckily for him though, the other one is in the vicinity of her ass before he can become too disappointed by the move.

 

“We were not arrested; we were lightly reprimanded and politely asked to move along...”


End file.
